Blood of Dragons

By Walter Loy

Long ago, the world of Beryl was shattered when magicians unleashed their full power in the Starfall War. In the aftermath, the survivors of the Twenty-One Races decided that no mage should ever again be allowed to try to unlock the secrets that led to that disaster.

Almost three thousand years after the Starfall, a young Human woman discovers that she has the potential to learn the art of magic - but no mentor willing to teach her until a powerful but eccentric benefactor takes her under his wing. She soon finds herself enmeshed in his agenda, a pawn in events that may decide the fate of her world as echoes of the Starfall re-emerge.

But this pawn holds an unexpected power of her own, and there are many contending factions on Beryl. Some want to help her; some want to use her for their own ends; and some simply want her destroyed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Walter Loy
• Release date: Nov 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301296958

Book preview

Prologue

The powers known variously as magecraft, wizardry, and sorcery involve the direct manipulation of energy and matter by the mind. Most people are unable to do this; those who can, do not all have the same abilities nor the same level of mastery. The simplest and most common powers deal directly with motion and gravity, allowing a mage to fly, to levitate objects, or to shield herself from attacks. More advanced competencies involve the electromagnetic forces; lightning, light, wards, mind-contact and fire tend to be the core of this level of ability. The most powerful wizards can manipulate the forces that bind matter itself and change the very behavior of physical objects – or of space itself.

In all cases, however, the limit to what can be done is two-fold. A mage needs the ability to do what she wishes – but she also needs to know what she is doing. And so they study the nature of things, learning how the world is put together so that they can safely manipulate it, studying mathematics and what would be called science in other places. Healing and regeneration involve far more detailed and complex processes than creating lightning bolts or levitating in midair, however, and remain outside the realm of magecraft so far. Only the priests have been able to deal with the complexities of living matter, and they have the assistance of the Gods themselves.

Familiars bridge that gap to some extent; no one is completely sure what they are, but those mages who have one have access to knowledge that others do not. The priests tend to think that the appearance of a familiar shows that a mage is favored by one of the Gods, though it is rarely clear which one of them. Mages suspect that familiars are free-floating intelligences, perhaps spirits or messengers from the Gods, who are attracted to those who are strongly talented.

They are, in any event, uncommon.

2324 Anno Post Siderum

The wizard was old and dying, his body weakened to the point of collapse by well over a century of time. His familiar did most things for him now, those tasks that weren’t handled automatically by spells set in place years before. Everything’s in place, and just in time. Won’t be long now. You will follow your instructions, Chamekarti?

The mental response carried a sigh. I will, Master. It’s not as if I have a choice, after all. Does your foreseeing include a hint as to how long I will have to wait?

The wizard coughed, looking calmly at the blood that the automaton nursemaid moved to clean up. Sorry. It will be a while, though. The Gods move slowly, and a push at the right time can channel events into different paths. It will be your job to provide that push. Don’t fail me, old friend.

His familiar nodded, a human gesture from the animal body. I will do my best, Master. Rest now. The cat curled up beside the wizard and purred until he fell into his final sleep.

Chapter 1

Nightsday, Month of the Smith, 2641 A.P.S.

Shala had shared her mother’s room all her life. She knew to make herself scarce when Tirla entertained the customers that Big Mikhal sent over. She’d run the streets of Shiphaven with the other youngsters, mostly ignored by the older ones in the gangs. As she got older, though, the other children had started giving her a wide berth. She saw things the others couldn’t, and strange things sometimes happened to bullies who tried to pick on the slender olive-skinned Human girl. Still, the gangs neither tried to recruit her, nor harass her; those who were mage-touched could be dangerous to those around them, and never more so than before they gained control of their abilities. Things could have gone on that way for a few years more if Mikhal hadn’t had one of his ‘bright’ ideas.

The pimp told Tirla to have her daughter stay when he came over that evening. Maybe he’s finally going to let me keep enough to send you to a proper school, Shala.

The fourteen-year-old was unconvinced. She had learned years ago not to trust the big thug, and she had long since realized that her mother had no sense where he was concerned. Mikhal barely knows how to read himself, Ma. You really think he’ll agree to something like that? He’d like the money I could earn after I’d joined one of the Guilds, but that’d take years. I don’t think he’s able to think past next week. He’s got something else in mind.

Shala had been right. Far from agreeing to Tirla’s constant requests for enough money to send the girl to the Academy, he had decided that she was old enough to have customers of her own. An’ I’ve got just the right fella t’ start ya off wit’. Lots a’ gold for me, an’ ‘e’ll keep t’ Watch off us, bein’ grateful, like.

Her mother shook her head, prompting him to scowl at her. Shala’s not needing to do that, Mikhal. I make enough to feed us both, she’s learned her letters– The big man slapped her, hard, rocking her back.

Ya stupid cow, why d’ya t’ink I give ya enough to feed the brat all this time? She’s a virgin, an’ just the right age for th’ Boss’s likes. Talked to Dmitri today, ’e’ll get it all set up.

Tirla blanched. "Not him, Mikhal! Please, you said you’d keep us safe from him! You know what happens to the girls he uses..."

The man just sneered. D’is is our big chance to get rich. Shala’ll likely be fine after a couple weeks – He stopped in surprise as the woman attacked him, galvanized into violence by the threat to her daughter even though her own brutalization had long gone uncontested. Mikhal was a lot bigger than she was, though, used to brawling and darker bits of violence in the underside of the city, and the outcome was inevitable. He fended off her attack, one hand keeping her nails away from his eyes, and then started beating her. Tirla really had no chance, but it distracted him long enough. Shala, momentarily forgotten in his fury at being opposed, managed to slip up behind him, and stuck his own dagger into his left kidney with a single convulsive shove.

Mikhal screamed. Ya filthy little bitch, I’ll kill ya! He spun, the wound mortal but not immediately fatal. The girl held on and the knife gouged deeper before it tore away from her grip. His face was twisted in agony, but he grabbed her and threw her into the wall of the cheap room. And then something twisted into place inside her, a blaze of energy stabbing out and through the pimp’s heart in response to her fear and hatred of the man. He collapsed, the look on his face one of total surprise as he died.

Shala stumbled over to her mother as the power faded again. Tirla was breathing in gasps, blood bubbling up from broken ribs and a punctured lung. I knew... knew he was your father. Money... saved up... under floor... find... someone... teach... Her eyes closed as the labored breathing stopped.

My father? Who was my father? MOTHER!! She’d run, then. The pimp was a stupid thug and a bully, but he’d had connections. The Organization didn’t approve of anyone else killing their people, so she’d paused just long enough to grab Tirla’s hoarded silver and the contents of the larder before she’d left. She ran halfway across the city before stopping in terrified exhaustion, and only then realized where she was.

People generally didn’t go into the Tombs at night – few would brave the quiet streets even in daylight. The glimmering of warding spells surrounded her, lighting her way although to most it would have been pitch black. Her panic had receded, leaving her in a fearless daze, even as she remembered all the tales told, stories of jealous ghosts and shambling creatures of darkness that guarded their master’s remains; but she decided that even such tales were an improvement over Mikhal’s associates – they might kill her, but they wouldn’t torture her first. She sat where she’d run herself out, watching for monsters but seeing nothing at first. It might have been a minute or an hour when a movement caught her attention. She leaped to her feet, ready to flee again, but it was only a coati, a little ring-tailed predator that was supposedly found in the forests outside Shiphaven. He was trotting down the street, carrying a pigeon that had gone to sleep in the wrong place, and he stopped and looked at her quizzically for a moment before continuing on his way past her.

She watched him as he passed by. He stopped, looked back at her and sat up on his haunches for a moment, then raised his paw as if to beckon. She followed the creature in a daze and stopped in surprise as he disappeared through a cracked wall. She was small enough to fit through after him – and the wards didn’t extend into the broken wall. The little animal was already climbing up a pile of stones where the top of a tower had collapsed long ago, and she followed him into a sheltered spot and fell asleep.

Chapter 2

Selkysday, in the month of the Forestlord, 2643 APS

The sun found its way into her hidden eyrie, waking her as it did every afternoon. The young girl stirred, then opened her eyes as hunger asserted itself. She sighed; a few bites of cheese and bread were all that she had left. Time to get serious again, Chet. If we can’t turn up an audience or something tonight, we’ll have to dip into what I’ve got stored up. And if the gangs get the idea that I’ve got anything hidden away, they’ll be a lot more interested in where we sleep. Bad enough that the damn pimps think I should work for them.

Her companion didn’t say anything in response. He never did. He uncurled, though, and looked at her curiously, nose twitching. Oh, all right, you ringtailed bandit. Just one piece, though. The coati grabbed the offered piece of cheese and stuffed it into his mouth. Shala ruffled his fur with a grin, and the animal rubbed against her hand as he searched for more treats.

Sorry. All out. I just told you, we have to work. Chet grumbled, his opinion of work quite evident. Shala tended to agree, but her tastes in food didn’t include bugs and raw pigeons.

Shala had long since decided that the stories about the Tombs were mainly just stories. She’d seen only a few zombies in the two years she’d slept here, and they were all inside one or another of the warded estates, patrolling the grounds. Her mother had made sure she’d learned to read, squeezing money out of the meager allowance Mikhal had given her to pay an old drunk who claimed he’d once been a wizard, so she knew that her hideaway was the final resting place of one Markathi. The tower had apparently been his workshop before he’d died three centuries back, and some of the books he’d left behind had let her puzzle out what her mother had meant by her last words. She could see the warding spells, she’d used the Art untutored to defend herself against Mikhal, and a couple of Markathi’s very simplest spells were now hers to command. She had the potential to be a sorceress, if only she could find someone to teach her. That was the problem, though. She remained a street rat, with little enough in the way of silver, and no wizard or sorceress in Shiphaven would consider training an unpedigreed apprentice without gold for a bribe. The Academy had turned her down when she'd applied. She’d heard it was different in other places, but traveling required money as well – and trusted companions if she didn’t want to be kidnapped by slavers or other criminals. At least the ones here were a known quantity, and they’d never figured out that Tirla and Mikhal hadn’t just killed each other.

She made her way out of the Tombs as the sun sank toward the horizon. Dusk was the best time to do a performance during the dry season, she’d discovered; tall Humans and sleek-furred Tschai were out and about, active after the heat of the day, while the winged Nightfolk and black-masked Prokka were just waking up. The waterfront bustled with all of the land-dwelling peoples in the early evenings, and if she couldn’t find an audience, she could sometimes find a newcomer to Shiphaven who needed a guide.

A few of the local merchants waved to her as she passed on her way down to Waterfront Market, and she waved back. She’d earned a great deal of good will with several of the more honest ones over the last year, recommending them to travelers and sailors without requesting kickbacks. Tonight, she arrived in time to claim a good spot near one of the market’s main ways, and she and Chet went about the business of gathering an audience.

One of the simple spells she’d managed to puzzle out from the long-dead mage’s books let her produce light, and tonight she used it to make her juggling balls glow in a rainbow of colors. She began with three, red, blue and green, and people began to gather as Chet threw more to her one by one to add to the circle. By the time she had the whole rainbow aloft, the crowd had gotten respectable.

Patience, patience, folks, said Shala as Chet tossed her another ball, this one glowing pure white. Don’t want to start the act with the grand finale, after all.

The crowd settled in to watch, waiting for the first dropped ball, but Shala wasn’t dropping any today. After a bit, she grinned at the group. Now this is a bit too easy. Someone want to toss an empty mug to me? One of the audience obliged, and she added the mug to the cycle, eight objects sailing through the air.

She deflected the mug back to Chet after a bit, and the little coati caught it and set it down. She grinned and let the balls drop into it. Plunkplunkplunk. That’s the warm-up. Balls are easy, after all, and hardly interesting for a sophisticated group such as yourselves. Needs a bit of spicing up, it does. she gathered up some mugs and pulled a brace of knives out of her pouch. This time the pattern was alternating mugs and daggers, the knives (blunted, actually, but they looked sharp) flashing through the air.

The audience was spellbound. Not a single catcall. And barely any wincing. She kept it up for a good half-hour, Chet sometimes catching objects or throwing them to her, sometimes jumping through the ring of circling objects. For the grand finale her companion perched on her head, juggling three of the rainbow balls himself inside the circle of knives and belaying pins that Shala was keeping aloft. The applause at the end was enthusiastic, and then Chet was suddenly busy grabbing coins that were tossed to them and stuffing them into the pouch she’d left on the ground. She bowed to the mixed group. Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’m glad you enjoyed our little routine.

◊

This was the third evening he’d visited the market square. K'seethra had given him a good description of the girl he was looking for, but it was skewed toward Nightfolk sensibilities, not Ha'sheeran. It would be hard to mistake a juggler working with a coati, though, and the Tschai street urchin he’d given a few coppers to his first night ashore assured him that this was her usual location. At least it isn’t Shiphaven’s rainy season. Bad enough dealing with the heat.

Tonight’s walk through the market had turned up nothing, and he was about to head for the next one on his list when the otter kit reappeared. She here tonight, sir! Just start her show in front of Tsu Lin’s fish stall! Show you, two penny?

The lynx smiled. One now, two more if it’s the right girl. He flipped the coin to her as she nodded, and followed her across the market. He smiled as he got close enough to see the performer. That’s got to be her. Coati, juggling act ... hmm. Must be something new, K'seethra would’ve mentioned that she had her juggling props enspelled. And that is the one I’ve been looking for, all right. He handed the girl a silver piece. Good job...?

Cha Lin, Master Wizard. Told you I know Shala. Thank you, most grateful. She glanced back and forth, then stretched up to whisper to him. Don’t get the prawns, they from yesterday. Ask you need me again, yes?

He nodded. I’ll be sure to do that, Cha Lin. He settled in to watch the rest of the show.

◊

Shala waited until she was sure no one else was going to contribute, and then started packing things away. One spectator remained, a tuft-eared Ha'sheeran wearing only a brief kilt and a sash with the badge of a master sea-mage in the tropical heat. Very nice. Very nicely done. You would be Shala, would you not?

She shrugged, automatically suspicious; though less so of a non-human than she would have been of her own kind. Maybe. Why?

She was recommended as a guide to the more... unusual parts of Shiphaven by a friend of mine. The felinoid dropped into his own language. One gold per day for your services as a guide; if you’re the one I seek, you can answer in K'seethra’s native tongue, correct?

Shala’s eyes widened at the size of the offer, and she answered in the pidgin version of the Night Speech. Some, Master Wizard. He taught me what I could learn. What is it you wish to find?

A pool. A very special pool. K'seethra told me you were not afraid to enter the Tombs.

I’m not, if there is a good reason. A pool, eh? Something magic, I assume?

The mage smiled, showing fanged teeth. Of course. Chalanthi’s Mirror.

Shala stared at him in shock. "The Mirror? It’s real?"

The mage nodded. Aye, real enough. What do you know about it?

She shrugged. I’ve heard the stories. It was built before the Starfall, but managed to survive. Or fragments of it did, at least. It can move you instantly around the world, it can grant wishes or knowledge or power or fortune – frankly, sir, the stories are rather inconsistent. It has supposedly been found and lost again on several occasions. It has guardians powerful and fierce, and devious and clever as well. Its location is never the same in any two tales, but it is always far away. She paused, gauging the mage’s expression. You really think it’s in the Tombs? Sir?

The cat-man’s smile broadened. Are you agreeing to be my guide, then?

Shala nodded. Payable in advance, of course, master wizard.

He grunted. That’ll get old quickly. My name is Hreh'chak. He fished out a coin – a gold sovereign stamped and milled in Maidstone by the Trade League mint – and passed it discreetly to the Human. As for the rest? Too many ears here, in any language. Lead the way, and I’ll tell you more as we go.

Shala nodded, and led the way out of the market, taking a roundabout route for a few blocks to make sure they weren’t being followed. The lynx nodded his approval when he realized what she was doing. Anyone trailing us?

The human shook her head. I don’t think so. Not unless it’s one of the Nightfolk, at least. Hard to catch them at it, since they’re not stuck on the ground like the rest of us.

Hreh'chak grunted. Truth. The part of Shiphaven they were traveling through had wide main streets suitable for caravan wagons, with pale magelight lamps at regular intervals to allow activity day and night. The port was a major trade center, with ships from all over the known world exchanging goods with the caravans that plied the trade routes deep into the interior of Boveya. One such caravan was just arriving, the merchants in charge apparently so eager to reach the markets that they had pushed on at dusk rather than stopping, and Hreh'chak and Shala moved to the side of the boulevard to make way for it. The girl pointed, and under cover of the caravan’s noise and commotion, the pair darted down a narrow side alley between two steep-roofed buildings.

A short cut, Master Hreh'chak. A few alleys, past the Temple of the Traveler, and then a few more alleys. If you know the way, it’s quicker than following the Market Boulevard to the Citadel and then taking the Old Road out toward the Tombs. Keeps the Watch from noticing you’re heading that way, too; they tend to take a dim view of outsiders coming in and stirring things up out that way.

The mage nodded. This is precisely why K'Seethra suggested I find you. He said you had a good head on your shoulders – for a groundling. He chuckled as she looked offended. From him, that’s high praise. And you must have impressed him, since he took the trouble to teach you the Night Speech.

Shala gave him a wry grin. "Well, aye. He had me take him all sorts of strange places while he was here, too, though never into the Tombs. A couple of times we were right at the edge of them, though. He said he was teaching me what I could learn because Boveyan made his teeth itch."

Hreh'chak nodded. Sounds like him, all right. The feline looked around. Now, to answer your question – no, the Mirror is not in the Tombs. But from what I’ve been able to find out, there should be clues to it there. I need to find the final resting place of the last person reputed to know its actual location.

Shala nodded. I see. And who might this person be?

A mage from the far north. Ylldratha the Wise served as the head of the Council for nearly fifty years before he retired at the age of 120. Quite elderly for a human, wouldn’t you say? He dropped out of public view shortly after he retired, but what is not common knowledge is that he actually disappeared. Shala nodded. She’d heard the name before. What I have only recently discovered – well, I suspect it’s true, anyway – is what actually happened to him. He changed his name and appearance and came down here. We’re looking for the name Markathi.

The coati, who had been ranging ahead poking his nose into crevices looking for beetles, stopped and stared at the Ha'Sheeran, then came bounding back, landing on Shala’s shoulder to look him straight in the eyes. The girl had frozen as soon as she heard the name. Markathi was Ylldratha the Wise??

Hreh'chak nodded. I think so. Do you know where he lies?

Shala reached into her pouch, pulling out the coin she’d been given with a sorrowful expression. I can’t take you there – She stopped as the coati chittered angrily at her. What? The little predator was quite agitated, bouncing up and down on her shoulder, pointing to himself and her, then to her and Hreh'chak.

The mage frowned. Does he often do this sort of thing?

Shala shook her head. "Chet’s very clever, but he’s never acted like this before. It’s almost like he’s trying to tell me something."

Hreh'chak nodded. Indeed. You and he, then you and myself. As if – He paused, staring closely at the coati. His ears flicked, and he murmured something in syllables not meant for a feline mouth any more than a human one. He stared at the little animal for even longer after he had done so, and then Chet nodded to him. Shala – would you be interested in learning the Art?

Shala’s eyes went wide. I can’t afford the fees, Master. I’ve learned what I can, but... She stopped, taking a step back at the darkening expression on the feline’s face.

Hreh'chak shook his head. "Sorry, girl, I’m not angry at you. I’d heard the local mages were a venal lot, but this... He shook himself again, visibly suppressing his emotions. Shala. In lieu of gold for your services, would you – and your familiar – be interested in becoming my apprentice?"

She stared at him, while Chet nudged at her cheek. Belief warred with suspicion behind her eyes, though her face remained impassive. She had not survived two years in the streets of Shiphaven by allowing her feelings to show when she didn’t want them to. How do I know you will do as you say, Master Hreh'chak? If not gold, what service would you require of me? She’d heard rumors about all manner of perversions among the practitioners of the Art, and though she’d always discounted them as the sort of thing fueled by jealousy, it was hard to put them out of her mind now that the choice was before her.

Hreh'chak sighed, mobile ears drooping. Decadent fools. He looked carefully at Shala. The mages here have forgotten what their duties are. The only service that you need give to me is that you learn, and work hard to master what I can pass on to you. We will take oaths together. There is a price to be paid, but that comes later... He stopped as the girl bristled.

I knew it. What is this price?

The Ha'Sheeran shook his head. "Nothing you should mind. My oath will be to teach you, and keep you fed and clothed while you learn. Your oath will be to learn, and someday, in turn, to pass on your knowledge to other apprentices. The price is not paid back to me – the price is paid forward. He sighed, understanding the girl’s suspicion and angry at the reasons for it. Forget about Markathi for now. The Mirror will wait. It’s waited for nearly three thousand years already. First, we go to the Temples."

When Hreh'chak and Shala arrived it was well into the night. Most of the people present were Nightfolk or Prokka, with a few Humans for variety and an occasional member of one or another of the rest of the Twenty-One. The wizard strode briskly along the boulevard, glancing at the buildings as he searched for the one he wanted. The twin Temples of Father Day and Mother Night were the centerpiece of the complex, gold and marble on the north side of the square facing basalt and silver to the south. The Temple of the Healer took up most of the western side of the square, a large but plain building devoted to hospital functions, while the severe columns of Justice dominated the eastern side. Ah, here we are. The building Hreh'chak had found was as devoid of ornament as the Healer’s, and inside the walls were lined with books. The Sage.

An older Human was on duty inside, dressed in the blue and gray of the Sage’s priesthood. His eyes lit on the street rat with distaste which was quickly forgotten when he saw the rank badges that the girl’s companion was wearing. He rose from his seat, and bowed to the lynx. Good evening, sir. How may I be of service?

We are here to have an important oath witnessed. I’m afraid we don’t have an appointment.

Gray eyes flicked to Shala and back to the wizard, and the man noted his League accent. Certainly sir, if you wish. It is not usually our practice here to require oaths for simple contracts with guides and such workers, however. Perhaps I could recommend a more reliable guide for you?

Hreh'chak leaned forward, resting his hands on the man’s desk and allowing his retractile claws to peek from his fingertips. "I shall be charitable and assume that you are too stupid to realize that this is also the case in the League. Otherwise I would have to assume that you believed I was stupid. I’m sure that that wasn’t your intent. He waited until the Human gabbled out an apology. Now that I have your attention. An important oath is to be witnessed. By someone competent, would be my preference."

The man hurried off while Shala watched the exchange torn between amusement and alarm. Master Hreh'chak – won’t he cause trouble for you now?

Hreh'chak shook his head. I doubt he would, even if he could. That sort bullies his subordinates and cowers before his superiors. The trick is making sure that he thinks you fall in the second category. You obviously don’t, to his mind. He wasn’t sure about me, so I bit his head off and handed it to him. Since I did that, I’m obviously not his subordinate, so he scrambles to do my bidding. He grinned at the girl, then turned as the flutter of wings heralded the arrival of another priest.

Now what’s so important that you had to send Donovan packing, may I ask? The new arrival was one of the Nightfolk, large for his kind – though this still left him a bit shy of a full yard in height. He grinned as the feline turned toward him, showing sharp fangs in a blunt-muzzled face. Hreh'chak! Still on your hunt, are you?

Hreh'chak grinned in turn. T'karro! What are you doing here? I sent that fellow off with orders to find me someone competent.

You’ll just have to settle for me, I’m afraid. The bat folded his broad wings and scratched thoughtfully at his muzzle with the finger-claws of the left one. So. Let me see if I can figure this out. A well-known but eccentric foreign wizard, a local street performer, and stuffy old Donovan sent off with his non-existent tail between his legs. You’ve found an apprentice?

The cat nodded. Aye, that’s it. If she’ll accept.

The priest turned his attention to Shala, and she felt the tickling vibration of his soundsight as he studied her. I think I’ve seen you in the market. The juggler? She nodded in response. I recognized the coati. You’d be a fool not to take his offer, girl. He knows more of the Art than half of the local wizards put together, and you won’t have to bribe him with your own gold to teach you. The only drawback is that you’d better like to travel.

Shala nodded again, though her thoughts were still in a whirl. I don’t think I’d mind that. There’s nothing to hold me here, and Mother told me, before she died, that I should find someone to teach me. It’s just... so sudden, sir. And I don’t really know anything about him... The coati chittered in apparent annoyance at her indecision, then jumped from her shoulder to Hreh'chak’s. The wizard’s ears rose in surprise, and then the creature leaped back to Shala and tugged at her ear. The girl looked at her friend, who nodded. "He seems to trust you, sir. I suppose I’d better say yes. She straightened herself, and met the eyes of the wizard and priest. She knew the phrases, though she’d never used them before. I will swear oath to be apprentice to Hreh'chak and learn the Art under his direction."

Hreh'chak nodded. And I will swear oath to accept Shala as my apprentice and teach her what she needs to know and all that I can of the Art.

T'karro smiled. Excellent. Let’s get the specifics sorted out then.

Standard form, I should think. Hreh'chak paused. She learns, obeys my orders; I teach, provide for her food and shelter, release her when she has learned enough to be a journeyman. Just to reassure her, though, limit the obedience clause. Stick in something about ‘except in matters of personal privacy and mating.’

T'karro stared at him. You’re kidding, right? Why would you need to do that?

I already told you. To reassure her. Specifically, to reassure her that I do not have the same interest in her as most of the males she’s had to deal with in her life.

T'karro glanced back at the girl, then nodded. All right, then. I’ll add that in. Shala? Anything you want aside from the standard clauses?

Nothing I can think of, sir. She gave Hreh'chak a grateful look. Thank you.

Chapter 3

Hreh'chak smiled as the ceremony concluded. And now... Can I impose on you for the appropriate badge, T'karro?

The cleric nodded. Just happen to have one in stock. You can pay me later.

The wizard pinned the badge on Shala’s tunic. And now you are officially a wizard’s apprentice under the laws of the Trade League of Killimara, the Free Republic of Shiphaven, and the Rules of the Council. Let’s continue our journey, and you can tell me why you don’t want to go to that place I mentioned.

T'karro chuckled and led them to a side door. Here, you can sneak out this way if you want, Hreh'chak. If anyone asks, shall I tell them you’re headed back to the League or inland with a caravan?

The cat shrugged. Doesn’t really matter. I doubt we’ll be going in either direction. He grinned as Shala smiled at being included. Oh, there are a few others you’ll need to meet. Shall we be on our way, Apprentice?

T'karro chuckled, showing that mouthful of needle-sharp teeth again. I’ll gauge it for maximum inconvenience, then, depending who’s asking.

Shala blinked. You really do travel a lot, don’t you, sir? She was still getting used to her new status. I... well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’ll take you there. She bowed to the bat as he ushered them out. And my thanks to you for your assistance, Master T'karro.

He chuckled and waved as the door closed. Just doing my job, Miss Shala. Drop in again before you leave Shiphaven, if you can get this peripatetic reprobate to slow down long enough to share a meal with an old friend.

Shala froze, staring at the door and then glancing at her new master, expecting ... she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, actually. One of the local master mages would be annoyed, at best, at such disrespectful banter, but she was already well aware that the Ha'Sheeran wasn’t cast in the same mold. She was right – his ears were twitched forward, and his mouth was open in a stillborn retort, but there was no anger about him. He relaxed and smiled – no, that was definitely a mischievous grin. "Well. Now we will have to stop by before we leave, if only to keep him from having the last word."

◊

The side alley separated the Temple of the Sage from that of the Traveler, and Shala led Hreh'chak away from the plaza. The shortcut is this way, sir. I didn’t want to take you before, because... well, because it’s been my home for the last two years. He’s been my mentor so far, you could say.

Hreh'chak’s voice held a note of disbelief. "He’s not still alive, is he?"

Shala shook her head. "Oh, no, sir. He’s in the Tombs, after all. But his books are still there. I’ve been learning from them, but there is so much I don’t understand. I’ve never seen any reference to the Mirror, but to be honest, I don’t even know half the languages they’re written in."

The feline voiced a curiously kittenish mrowl at that. "If you know even that many of the languages likely to be in his collection, you’re doing pretty well. What can you speak?"

Shala thought about it. Well, Boveyan and Killimaran, of course. K'seethra taught me how to read the Night Speech and speak the pidgin version. Your language, and Tschai, and the Trade Tongue. Karadan, sort of, and a few words of Uljurran.

Hreh'chak chuckled. Sort of?

The girl sounded embarrassed. Well, my accent’s pretty bad. And most of the words I’m sure of are sailor’s lingo. I can’t make heads or tails of most of Markathi’s Karadan books, I’m afraid. If we’re going to travel north, I’m going to need a bit of work with it.

It sounds like you’re off to a good start, though. I’ll teach you better Karadan, and you can give me a hand with Tschai. And you’ll have to learn Sresshashk.

Shala’s eyes flicked toward him as they walked. Dragonspeech? Is there much call for that?

Hreh'chak nodded. Very much so. Much of what is written about the Art is in their tongue. And if you expect to bargain with a dragon, you had best know his own language if you want to get away with a whole skin.

The girl goggled at him. Bargain with... sir? You mean... on purpose??

The wizard nodded. Aye. Some of them are quite nice when you get to know them.

Shala squeaked, Nice...??

He nodded again. Some of them. They’re reputed to be the children of the Destroyer, but they’re people too. Not all of them follow their base nature, for whatever reason. The trick is knowing which is which. He changed the subject. Since you live exactly where I need to go – are there supplies there?

Shala shook her head. No, sir. I was juggling to earn some money for food. If you’re planning to stay there for a bit, we should get something to eat first.

Lead the way to a market, then. We’ll stock up for a week or so, and you can show me what you’ve found.

She took him to one of her favored shops, and soon they were on their way again, laden with travel bread, dried fruit, sausage and jerky, and a full wheel of cheese. Hreh'chak surprised her again by carrying half of it; she could not recall ever seeing a master wizard carry anything other than a staff before. Isn’t this supposed to be my job, sir?

The lynx chuckled. What, carrying groceries? I don’t look that decrepit yet, do I?

She shook her head almost violently, denying the implied insult. No, no! It’s just... you’re not much like the Human wizards around here.

Hreh'chak snorted. I should hope not. I’ve dealt with the Shiphaven clique before. Rather too worried about their dignity and prerogatives and ignoring the duties and responsibilities that come with it, I think. And to think they overlooked someone with your potential, just because you weren’t from one of their families, or rich enough to get their attention. Good thing, though. They don’t deserve you.

My potential, sir? I knew I had the Talent, but is it really that good?

My dear girl, you’ve mastered a few spells completely on your own. This is unusual in itself. Mostly simple cantrips, to be sure, but you’ve also attracted a familiar, completely untutored. That is so rare as to be unheard of.

A familiar? You mean Chet? She looked at the coati again. He’s not a familiar. He’s a friend... isn’t he?

The cat shook his head. The bond is there. I’ll teach you how to use it better, but yes – he’s a familiar, not just a companion. How did you think you taught him the tricks you did for your act, eh?

I didn’t think about that, sir. He just does things on his own, and I reward him when it works.

He was probably picking up what you wanted him to do straight out of your head. Hreh'chak thought about it. How did you do it, by the way? How did you meet him?

Shala looked away, and when she answered her voice was thick with emotion. It was... the night my mother died. Mikhal beat her when she tried to stop him from selling me. I stabbed him while he was beating her, and then killed him with some sort of spell when he turned on me. Mother was beyond my help, though. She told me to find someone to teach me, and tried to tell me who my father was... and then she died, and I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t run any more. I ended up in the Tombs, and Chet was there and led me to Markathi’s tower.

Hreh'chak listened quietly, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder when she’d finished. She flinched, her first reaction to try to escape from the contact, but then forced herself not to. Though it went against her instincts, she forced herself to accept the touch the way it was intended. Chet accepted it, as well. Chet, she trusted.

Strong need and strong emotions. No wonder. He’d reached out to her without thinking, and had almost pulled back at her initial reaction – but she’d allowed it, and he nodded to himself. Good steel in this one, and a fine mind. No, Oranthus, you and your fat-headed Guild don’t deserve this apprentice. And you’ve got no one to blame for losing her but your own attitudes. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. You actually live in the Tombs? I understood that most people are unwilling to go in there at all.

Shala nodded. I know. I only went in the first time because I was running scared and not paying attention to where I was. But – I haven’t seen any undead at Markathi’s house, and very few at any of the others. And they all seem to be content to guard their own estates. None of them leave to walk the streets or anything like that. Creepy, but harmless. She grinned. Not that I’ve pointed that out to anyone. If the local thugs are scared of the place, that’s another line of defense for me. About a year ago I saw a group of mages come in, along with a squad of the Guard. They tried taking down the wards around one of the estates.

Hreh'chak chuckled. Really? What happened?

All they managed to do was to give themselves headaches, judging by their departure. She glanced over to the mage. Does anyone know what happened here?

Hreh'chak shrugged. In a general way, certainly. Almost five centuries back, a miserly merchant with no close heirs, one Marcos Santella, decided he didn’t want anyone getting hold of his money after he was gone. He seems to have hired a necromancer to keep anyone from pillaging his estate after he died. He got his money’s worth, all right. His body can still be seen patrolling the grounds, and the wards keep anyone from entering. According to the records, you can get out, his servants were able to escape – but nobody can get in.

But that’s just one estate. What happened to the rest of the district?

The lynx looked back at her. That is the question, isn’t it? We don’t know. But it seems obvious that the necromancer, whether accidentally or deliberately, set his nets too wide. Every estate nearby had the same thing happen to it – when the owner died the wards came up, and if the owner died at home, his body began to patrol the grounds, just as Santella’s did. The whole district was abandoned within a generation. Even the poor didn’t want to stay and lose what little they had if their landlord died. Markathi must have found an estate that hadn’t been sealed off yet – several families had tried to keep their options open by transferring title to their youngest members on a regular basis – and moved in. He looked at her. Which doesn’t explain how you manage to get in and out, does it? He’s long dead.

I’ll show you when we get there. She glanced around. Don’t want to be overheard, after all.

◊

Shala led Hreh'chak into the Tombs by one of the few side streets that hadn’t been blocked over the years, watching as always to